


I need someone...

by Alegriamarkerbox (bcathryn)



Series: October 9 [1]
Category: Historical RPF, Lewis and Clark
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 22:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcathryn/pseuds/Alegriamarkerbox
Summary: First chapter in my Lewis and Clark modern AU. Lewis attempts suicide, and Clark saves him just in time...





	I need someone...

Three bottles of pills- all identical. The same size, the same clear amber color. One bottle for his daily antidepressant, one for a mood stabilizer, and one for an emergency anti-anxiety pill. A tranquilizer.   
They made him feel… not right. Happy and talkative and stable, yet still uncomfortable. He opened each bottle, one-by-one, and dumped their contents into the toilet bowl. Little white circles and ovals, sinking to the bottom and swirling into the hole together when he flushed.  
They would end up in the sewer and eventually, the waterways he so loved… he did not care, though. He did not intend to ever see them again.

He did not- could not- take the antidepressant or the mood stabilizer that morning. Or the next. The following evening came the brain zaps his doctor had warned him of. Jolts of electricity running between his brain and spine, traversing the top of his head. It’s a withdrawal symptom, the doctor had explained. The only way to get rid of them is to take the next dose as soon as you can…  
But there was no next dose and there never would be. He crawled into bed, although it was only six PM and still light outside. He would sleep the zaps away. 

He woke up. What time was it? What day?  
Seaman sat at the bedside, thumping his black tail. When had he last been fed?  
Lewis rolled over and ran a hand through his hair, greasy and flat since he had not washed it in… how long?  
He spread his legs apart and felt, with his fingertips, dampness between his thighs, in his groin. Sweat? Or had he pissed the bed? He peered beneath the covers to find a dingy-colored puddle beneath his hips. It reeked and stung his eyes. Piss, he decided, shamefully.   
Something else smelled, too. A quick glance at the floor, just next to an eager Seaman, revealed a splatter of stale vomit. Pale yellow, frothy. When had he done that?  
His stomach roared. He had not eaten in… days? Weeks? Eating had become impossible lately. A few weeks ago, he could eat, but could not keep anything down. Eventually his appetite waned and disappeared altogether. Nothing on his stomach in days, hence the foamy, acidic puke. His mouth tasted acidic. His throat burned. Was it the acid or the dryness?  
Another wave of nausea struck him, and he retched on the floor once again.  
“Seaman,” he moaned, as the dog crept backwards, away from the new puddle. 

“C-Clark?”  
“Hmm?” Lewis heard a yawn on the other end. “Lewis? Is that you?”  
“Clark,” Lewis repeated, sniffling. “I-I need someone…” He burst into tears and could not finish talking.  
“Lewis! Are you okay? Is everything okay?”  
No response, just sobs.

Clark hung up and rose from the bed.  
“Was that Lewis?” Julia asked, stretching. “Is something wrong?”  
“I really need to go see him. Something is definitely not right.” Clark slipped out of his pajamas and into the shirt and slacks that were lying on the floor by the bed. He looked at the clock on the bedside table. 2:20 AM.  
“I haven’t heard from him in days.” Clark paused while tying his shoelaces and sighed.   
“I’m worried, too, baby,” Julia said as Clark bent down and kissed her reassuringly. “Keep me updated, okay, Will?”  
“Of course.” Without looking back, he raced forward, grabbing his keys off of the counter, and flung himself into the driver’s seat of his car.   
Dear God, please let him be okay…

The front door to Lewis’s little bungalow house was locked.  
“Shit,” Clark muttered. He rang the bell and pounded the door. “Lewis? Lewis!”  
Moments later, no response. Even as his heart began to pound, Clark knew to step back and look beneath the doormat at his feet. Surely enough, there was a key, damp and rusty and plastered with mud, and he forced it into the lock.  
“Lewis!” he cried once more, stepping into the foyer. Suddenly, he heard a low bark, and Seaman came trotting into the room from the hallway.   
Why had the dog not begun barking, carrying on, at the sound of the doorbell, the knocks, or Clark opening the front door himself?  
“Seaman! Where’s your master?” Clark patted the dog on top of his curly black head; Seaman responded by frantically prancing in circles around Clark’s feet. “Where’s Meri?”  
Something is wrong for sure, Clark said to himself.  
Together, dog and man hurried to Lewis’s bedroom.  
“Jesus Christ.”  
There was Lewis, nude, propped up on the pillows, the comforter and sheets around his knees, spotted with fresh blood.   
Fresh slits on his arms and thighs.  
A razor, also bloodied, resting on Lewis’s bare chest. Below his chest, on his stomach, another gaping slash.  
“Oh, Lewis.” Clark sidled next to Lewis in the bed and embraced him. Lewis buried his head in Clark’s broad chest and burst into tears.   
“There, there. I’m here.” Clark’s own eyes began to water. “Everything will be okay.” Clark did not mind the sticky blood on his own body, his clean clothes.   
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”  
“C-Clark… no!” Lewis said, pulling himself from Clark’s arms. “Just let me be.” His voice was raspy, cracking. He began to sob harder.  
“Shh… Shh…” Clark’s own voice began to break. “You need help. I’m getting it for you.” Once he felt Lewis relax- just a little- Clark scooped him up in his arms, as he would a child, and carried him to the bedroom door. “We’re getting you help. You’re hurting.” Seaman followed as Clark made his way to the foyer and out the front door.  
Seaman began to whimper as he stopped on the porch. Clark turned and frowned. “Poor dog. We’ll take care of your Meri, I promise.”  
He set Lewis down on his bare feet, forgetting at that moment that the young man was naked. Clark retrieved an extra jacket and a throw blanket from his backseat and draped them over Lewis’s aching, bloodied flesh.  
“Please, no, William,” Lewis whispered, shivering, as Clark guided him to the backseat.   
“Just lie down there and rest,” Clark said sympathetically, positioning Lewis’s weak body across the leather seat. He did not worry about the bloodstains that would certainly be left behind…

The nearest emergency room was only ten minutes from Lewis’s neighborhood, and the downtown streets were empty. Clark spent the short but agonizing drive listening only to Lewis’s pained cries behind him.


End file.
